


In Which the Inquisitor Can't Keep Their Nose Out of Other People's Business

by Falling_Star



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: F/F, Light Angst, M/M, Matchmaking, Nonsense, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-27
Updated: 2015-06-30
Packaged: 2018-04-01 11:32:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4018159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Falling_Star/pseuds/Falling_Star
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inquisitor Tanaraeli Lavellan is busy trying to save the world, apparently. You wouldn't know it, from the amount of time they spend trying to get their friends together and solve all the unspoken crushes in Skyhold.<br/>Expect mentions of alcohol, addiction, various bigotry, rape, and other unpleasant things. Sorry.<br/>(I'm sorry for everything that might be wrong with this fic, aside from my Inquisitor. If there's anything I've tagged wrong, or anything else that needs tagging, please let me know.)<br/>Note: Abandoned until further notice. No promises that I'll ever continue this, but who knows.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Drunken Half-Confession

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first time I've posted a fic anywhere other than Tumblr in a long time, so forgive me for excessively short chapters, bad writing, all that. Also, in case it doesn't become clear any time soon, my Inquisitor is genderfluid. Thanks!

 

_I spend too much time in this tavern,_ Tanaraeli thought to herself as she watched some of the last drinkers stumble out the door into the moonlight. Sera was still in here somewhere, and a few others, some of whom were unconscious, but she was the only one near the bar. Well, at the bar. Perched on the bar with her feet on a barstool. Whatever.

     "Move your feet, would you?" For a moment, she wasn't sure what she'd been told to do, because the man who said it wasn't entirely sober. Once she figured out what he had said, she swung her feet up and tucked them under her knees.

     "Sorry. Didn't realise you wanted to sit," she replied cheerily. After blinking to clear her eyes- who knew half a glass of Sun Blonde would do that to her vision? okay, maybe more like half a bottle- she looked down at her new companion, who she hadn't immediately recognized. Oh, right! That Tevinter kid! Well, not really a kid. Every so often she still caught herself thinking of people who didn't have tattoos as children.

     "Wait. Shit. Did I just tell the Inquisitor to move? Sorry. Didn't mean to bother you..." He rose to leave, and she put a hand on his shoulder.

     "Relax. It's fine, Krem. Come on, drink with me. It'll be fun."

     Two hours later, he was half folded over the bar, and she had moved to sitting in a chair dragged from one of the tables after falling off the counter one too many times. They had gone past the stage of laughing at as many terrible jokes as they could fit into one sentence, and Tanaraeli was half-heartedly trying to convince him to try some of the Lava Burst she was currently drinking.

     "I just don't understand." The sound was muffled, squashed against an arm and slurred from drink. She poked him, hoping that would make him sit up so she could hear better. It worked, more or less.

     "Like, how did you manage to, manage to get Josephine to like you? How did you..."

     "I really hope you aren't making eyes at my girlfriend, Cremisius."

     "I'm not! I'm not. I'm not. I just... Just in general. How do you get someone to like you, in general, how do you..." He slumped again, and she threw out an arm to make sure his head didn't hit the bar too hard.

     "Okay, time to get up. Come on. Bed, yeah?"

     "How do you... And how do you drink so much, and not be drunk? I don't... Doesn't make sense..." She hooked her left arm under his shoulders, standing and lifting him to his feet.

     "I'm Dalish, sweetheart. I could drink every bottle in Skyhold and still be able to hold a conservation. Conversation. Which way is your room, again?"

     It took longer than it maybe should have to drag him to the Chargers' quarters, and it was a miracle, honestly, that they didn't wake anyone as they entered. Before she left, Tanaraeli decided that she needed to have a serious, less-drunk talk with Krem the next day. Before that, though, she ought to find a hangover cure and her bed.


	2. And a Name To Go With It

     Okay, so she was in the Rest at midnight again. To be fair, at least this time she wasn't drinking alone, or even sort of alone.

     Not that this was a good thing.

     Tanaraeli had spent the better part of the past hour trying to out-drink The Iron Bull so that he would go to bed and she could actually TALK with his lieutenant. The damn Qunari could _drink_. It must have been impossible to get him drunk! Either that, or he was as good as she at pretending. That might have been it, actually. He was a spy once.

      _So... Maybe the remains of the Sun Blonde? Aww, but it's so good..._ She sighed, and resigned herself to the fact that she couldn't always have the nice things all to herself. Ten minutes later, he was snoring gently under the table and she was trying to stuff a whole loaf of bread into her face at once. She was going to have the worst hangover of her life the next morning, probably. It'd be worth it, probably. Hopefully. Creators, she hoped she hadn't downed that much alcohol to talk about nothing.

     "So-o."

     "That was impressive. Don't think I've seen anyone manage to match him for drinks before."

     "Again, I'm Dalish. What were you on about last night?" Her patience was scarce. She cursed herself for that. It really wouldn't help to upset him. He didn't seem to mind her tone too much, though. Thank goodness for that.

     "It was nothing important. Nothing that matters." _Nothing you'd understand,_ she could feel him almost saying.

     "No, I'm pretty sure it matters a lot. And I'm even more sure that I'm nosy. Come on, tell me. I promise not to laugh or tell anyone or anything like that," she said, lowering her voice to just a little above a whisper.

     He looked nervous. Bit at the corner of his lip, looked away, scratched at his head. His other hand held a bottle a bit too tightly, his hand shaking from the strain.

     "It's really nothing, Inqui-"

     "Tanaraeli. My name is Tanaraeli. I am not the Inquisitor right now. I am a nosy, concerned friend, and if I can possibly help I will. You seemed to think I could, last night, so I am asking you now when you are less drunk." She said a bit more than she had meant to, but it was okay, probably.

     "Look, it's... It's kind of a crush, all right?"

     "On that waitress you always flirt with?"

     "No." _Worse than that. Like lying._ Something was wrong. More wrong than just a crush that he was sure would never be reciprocated.

     "O...kay. So, if it's a crush- well, kind of a crush- then why are you so much more agitated about this than you are about her or any of the other girls you're into?" He didn't reply. He turned his head to look away, going red. But it was the wrong type of blush. Not embarassment. Shame. She reached forward, gently pulled his fingers out of their death grip on the bottle he was holding, and rested her hands over his one on the table.

     "It's... You wouldn't understand." Finally, he spoke out loud. She was glad he did, and that he'd said that. It wasn't her usual reaction to being told she couldn't understand something, but this gave her a chance to make sure he knew that she did.

     "And why is that?"

     "You've always been a woman, all right? Always, and everyone else knows that too." He stood to leave, pulling his hand away from hers roughly.

     "And what in the world has led you to be under the impression that I'm always a woman?" A calm expression, without the annoyance that she feels showing through. Everyone is like this. She wished they weren't. She'd pretty much concluded that it was a human thing, but it still bothered her that they made assumptions like that.

     He turned back slowly. The look on his face was half shock, half guilt. That wouldn't work. She smiled at him, motioning for him to sit down again. He did.

     "I'm s-"

     "No, don't. I've yet to meet a single person who isn't Dalish who doesn't make that assumption. It's not fine, but it's easily forgiveable." He nodded meekly. His expression settled a bit.

     "I... should know better."

     "You're human. Humans are like that." She laughed gently, and he smiled a bit. He seemed to be trying to hide in his armour.

     "So! About this crush of yours." He took a deep breath and sat up straighter. Tanaraeli hoped he'd given up on not telling her. She was getting very tired of being patient.

     "Look, girls are supposed to be girls, and boys are supposed to be boys. And girls are supposed to like boys, and boys are supposed to like girls." He paused. She kept her expression neutral. It made sense now, though.

     "So, I've already broken one of those rules, and people don't like that. I can't..."

     "You have a crush on a man and you think people are going to stop believing that you're a man if they find out." It wasn't a question, nor did it leave any space to interpret it as one. He nodded in confirmation.

     "And you haven't considered that I will eviscerate anyone who even so much as thinks that, other than you with your worrying?" He's startled, for a moment. Then he mumbles something that she doesn't catch. He sees her confused look, and speaks again.

     "They probably won't. I'm probably being ridiculous."

     "You're not being ridiculous. You just haven't watched me holding an adult human to the wall by his neck while pressing the point of a dagger into his guts, daring him to say 'the right man' again." She shrugged, and took a sip from the bottle she'd taken from him before. He smiled for a moment, then looked at the table.

     "It doesn't matter anyway. He's not interested."

     "You've talked to him about it?"

     "No, he just... I don't think he thinks that way about anyone."

     "And who exactly is this mystery man?" She held out the bottle to give it back to him. He waved it away, so she set it on the table.

     "I..."

     "Oh, so I do know him! Wonderful," she noted his puzzled look, "well, if I didn't, you would have said so. You're like that." He looked less confused, but not entirely convinced.

     "If you don't tell me, I'm going to start throwing out names. No? Okay. Varric? Cullen? Blackwall? Cabot? Jeren- you don't know him? Oh, I thought you did. He's cute, I guess. Loranil? Cole? S-" She stopped. He had gone red.

     "Cole." He nodded. She almost laughed, but stopped herself, since that might make this worse.

     "You ought to consider telling him."

     "Hmm... Considered. Idea rejected." He rolled his eyes, and grabbed the bottle from the table.

     "Consider it again. Not now. Some other time. Right now, I think, this tavern is empty except for us and our lovely barkeep Cabot, who appears to have been glaring at us for quite some time. Wanna help me drag your boss back to his room?" She gestured under the table.

     "Only because you'd collapse trying to carry him yourself."


	3. Oddities

     It was another week before she had a chance to slip into the Rest at sunset again. There was so much work to do, and every evening when she had finished with it it seemed that Josephine desperately needed her for something or other. Suggestions on how to approach a Dalish clan in the Tirashan for help with bandits in that area. Decisions to be made between equally insignificant minor nobles' offers. Choosing a dress for the lovely ambassador to wear to some party.

     The dress had come out of nowhere, and Tanaraeli wasn't certain that she believed her sweetheart's explanation that she had a small party to attend that was being thrown by an old friend of hers. She had blushed just a bit too much. After she'd noticed that, the elf had just about hit herself. She didn't mean to be picking people apart at every turn. It just happened.

     When she did manage to escape before Josie had her picking out new curtains for the library, the tavern was of course her destination. She intended to go speak to Cole, to find out- gently, without telling him overtly what it was about- if Krem had talked to him. She didn't manage to make it up the stairs, though, before she heard her title called and had to turn around and smile politely, a smile that turned genuine when she saw who'd called to her.

     "Commander! What are you doing here, of all places?" She strolled over to where he was sitting and pulled herself up to sit on the table. He grinned.

     "I take it Josephine has run out of excuses to keep you away from here?"

     "She's been doing that on purpose? I knew it. Do you happen to know why?" She noticed the bottle of wine on the table. It was fancier than what she'd expected he would be drinking. From what she'd heard, it was fancier than what he usually drank.

     "She's worried that you drink too much. As is Cassandra. Their plan. They wanted me to help, but I refused." She smiled gratefully. Whether or not her drinking was a problem, it wasn't the biggest one, and besides it wasn't really their business anyway. Cullen seemed to understand this.

     "Well, thank you for that. Might I ask- why such a sophisticated drink?" She drew out the word sophisticated, taking it into pieces and saying each syllable like a separate word. He made a noncommittal noise.

     "I was wondering what's so good about expensive wine," he said as he reached to fill his glass again, then offered to fetch her a glass. She shook her head.

     "If that was the case, you could have asked for the most expensive one Cabot has, or the best one, or the fanciest. You have done none of these, and I know because I know that all three of those are Orlesian, two reds and one rose. You, however, are drinking a white. With a dragon on the bottle. Why?" Her tone was fake innocence. She kicked her legs while waiting for him to answer.

     "I, ah," he set his glass down, and reached to scratch the back of his neck, "Dorian told me I ought to try this one. Yesterday, while we were playing chess."

     "You are altogether too nervous about answering such a simple question, Cullen." She could have called him Commander. She would have, but she wasn't interrogating him.

      _Well, maybe I am. I feel like I am. I ought to stop this._ She didn't make any attempt to actually stop it, though. Just raised an eyebrow at the man while his face started to take on a reddish tone.

     "Well! I'd best be off. I meant to go talk to Cole, anyway." She hopped off the table, brushed off the front of her pants, and walked towards the stairs.

     "Inquisitor."

     "Yes?"

     "Could you... Could you please not tell anyone about this?" She turned, and grinned, showing her teeth.

     "About what, Commander?" And with that, she was off up the stairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The game Cullen and Dorian are playing in that one cutscene really doesn't look like chess to me. It doesn't. At all. However, I can't get a clear enough screenshot to confirm it, and I know that chess does exist in Thedas, and I know that the entire fandom thinks that it is chess, and if it's not chess then I don't know what it actually is. So, for the purposes of this fic, they were playing chess. But I'm still pretty sure that in the game they aren't playing chess. Not letting go of that.


	4. The Best of Luck

Cole was sitting, his legs hanging over the edge of the floor between the columns of the railing. He was looking down at Maryden as she played, mouthing the words she sang. Tanaraeli dropped down next to him, back to the railing, legs out straight.

"Hi."

"He's embarassed. But he's also smiling. Trying not to. Why?"

"Who, Cullen?"

"Yes." So Cole had been watching. Maybe he'd been able to tell that Tanaraeli was looking for him? Hmm.

"I think he has a crush. I'm not certain. And I don't know what type of crush, either." Cole's face changed when Tanaraeli said that. An expression, almost like excitement, but subdued.

"I know about crushes. I know the types of them, too."

"Yeah?"

"Yes. Friendship crushes, like you with Varric, you want to be his friend so badly. Daydream crushes, like the cook for Leliana, she knows it won't happen but it's happy in her mind. And..." He doesn't finish.

"Do you not have a name for the other ones?"

"No. I don't know what it's called. Like wanting to kiss someone, hold their hand, be close to them. With him. Sometimes it aches not being near him and sometimes it aches to be near him. I don't know what to do." Tanaraeli wasn't sure he realised that he'd switched pronouns in the middle of talking. His tone had also changed, though. He'd been talking generally, but then he'd started talking about a specific person.

"Are you in someone's head, or are you confessing something?"

"I'm in my head. You told me it was rude to look into strangers' minds too deep."

"Quite right. You don't know what to do, huh?"

"No." His head dropped, but his hat caught against the railing and was pushed away from his face. He looked sad. A bit confused, but mostly sad. Tanaraeli reached for his hand, and rubbed a thumb at his wrist. A comforting gesture.

"You know what the best thing to do about a crush is? Most of the time, anyway?"

"What?"

"Tell the person. Tell whoever it is that you like that you like him, and you know what? Tell him all that you just said about what type of crush this is."

"What if he doesn't like me like that? I would look in his mind, but you said that was rude."

"If he doesn't like you then it's okay. Really, it is. If he's an ass about it, that's his fault, but if he doesn't like you, then nothing bad has really happened. Life's just like that, yeah?" Tanaraeli smiled brightly at him. He stared.

"I'm confused now."

"Sorry. Ignore that. Look, just tell him. Yeah?"

"I'll try." The elf smiled again, and stood to leave.

"One more thing?"

"Yes?"

"It wouldn't happen to be Krem you're interested in, would it?" Tanaraeli really hoped it was. It would be happier if it was. That would mean both of them liked each other, and that was infinitely preferable to one-sided crushes and sad looks from across rooms, especially since Tanaraeli would probably have to do a lot of consoling if that happened.

Cole looked up, and, very subtly, nodded.

_Fuck yes._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing a character without using pronouns for that character, is difficult.  
> Also, this marks the end of the writing I had done when I first posted this, so expect updates to be a lot farther between from this point on.


	5. Less Than Lucky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, I'm not good at titles. I apologise. But I started this with titles and so I am going to give every chapter a title even if it ends up being a significant fact from the day I wrote each chapter.  
> Also, I apologise for how out of character this probably is. My computer is suddenly unable to play DAI. I don't know what happened. I'm working on it, but I can't do any first-hand character research until I've dealt with this, so.

     The next week, there was snow.

     Of course, there was a lot of snow in the Frostbacks, and often it did fall over Skyhold. But most of those times, Tanaraeli had been out on Inquisition business, or on personal business that he claimed was Inquisition business so that Cassandra wouldn't tell him off for using Inquisition resources, so he didn't get to see it snowing very often.

     Tanaraeli loved the snow more than he loved to breathe. The first time he'd seen snow, he'd been four years old, and it turned out to be his father's first snow too. He remembered seeing the man's face light up, an expression of relief and joy like nothing else in the whole world. He had cried. Laughed and smiled and cried. Tanaraeli remembered that, staring out the window in the library.

     He was also waiting for Dorian to come claim his chair back.

     Around this time, every Friday that he was in Skyhold, the mage would head off to the gardens to play chess with the Commander. That was fine, and all, but Tanaraeli had hoped to catch him before he left. He hadn't made it. The chair wasn't cold yet when he sat down, despite being right next to the slightly open window, so he'd probably left just before Tanaraeli had got there.

     That annoyed him. So, as a result, he was sitting in Dorian's chair- the chair that Dorian was exceptionally possessive of, and had once threatened to incinerate someone for borrowing- halfheartedly flipping through one of his books, and mostly just staring out the window at the snow. He'd been there for almost half an hour. He expected to spend the next hour or two sitting there. Chess was a time-consuming game, if you played it right. Not that the Inquisitor thought that Dorian was very good at chess, but his opponent certainly was.

     So of course he wasn't expecting it when not ten minutes later the mage stormed through and nearly threw him out of the chair. He wasn't expecting the glare he got as he leapt up, and was in no way prepared for the lack of any recognition he got afterwards. Dorian acted like Tanaraeli wasn't even there.

     "Um... Hello?" The elf tried, waving an arm. Aside from an involuntary flicker of his eyes, Dorian had no response. Tanaraeli wasn't certain if this was anger, or if he was tired, or... anything.

     "Not... Having the greatest day?" He moved to stand by the window, looking out of it to try and feel a bit less awkward. The response was a poorly smothered sigh, of the irritated variety. He bit his lip.

     "Uh... So... Now's a bad time, then?" Dorian looked up. Glared. He opened his mouth like he was going to spit out something cutting and venomous, and abruptly shut it again, sighing instead. His glare slid straight off his face.

     "Yes. No. I don't know." Suddenly the chair looked much larger around him as he slouched. _Okay, something went wrong._

     "Do you want to talk, or should I leave you alone, or..." Tanaraeli turned back to look at his friend properly. Dorian shrugged. Tanaraeli sat down quietly on the floor.

     They sat quietly for several hours. At some point, Dorian got up to fetch a book, which he eventually finished. It was still snowing when he spoke again, but the sky had gone dark.

     "I just can't seem to get it right." It was at an entirely audible volume, which seemed entirely inappropriate for the situation. Tanaraeli had a moment of feeling that someone, somewhere, was missing a perfect moment for a cliche.

     "Get what right?" The elf pulled his arms away from the windowsill, which took some effort since his sleeves seemed to have frozen themselves to the latticing. It took a moment for Dorian to respond. When he did, he didn't really answer the question at all.

     "Maybe I ought to stop trying. It's probably not worth it, anyway." He turned his head away from the Inquisitor, which was slightly annoying.

     "Dorian," Tanaraeli drew out the word until Dorian was forced to look back at him, about to tell him something along the lines of _for fuck's sake shut up already_ , and then he stopped, "get what right? Come on, tell me." He dragged out the last word as well, but thankfully not quite long enough for it to become annoying. Dorian sighed, annoyed anyway.

     "This flirting thing. How do you do it?"

     "I'm sorry?" He dropped his head to his shoulder in an overexaggerated expression of confusion. Although, given the elf's habit for amplifying his facial expressions, it was probably not intended to be comical.

     It was funny anyway. Dorian tried not to giggle. He tried very hard to get his face back in order before replying.

     "I can't figure it out. Hitting on people, I understand perfectly. Friendly conversation, I have some idea of. But flirting? I am entirely at a loss."

     "What do you... Look, it's simple... Well, no, that's a complete lie, it's nowhere close to simple. But like... You know what expression I mean if I say a 'dreamy smile,' right?" Tanaraeli turned himself around while he spoke, leaning his arms and his head back on the arm of Dorian's chair so he could look upside down at the mage.

     "I can recall you making that look at Lady Montilyet a few times, yes. Sickening, honestly."

     "Do that! Do that and a compliment, at the same time. Works. Hundred percent."

     "Oh? That worked for you, did it?"

     "Of course not, I ended up having to directly state that I was flirting. But unless you want me to suggest making a sign that says 'FLIRTING' on it and holding it up every time you are doing so, that's all I can give you."

     Dorian sighed and rolled his eyes. Not long after that, they both wandered off to bed. Tanaraeli was fairly certain he hadn't helped at all.


	6. Stillness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This contains a few very vague references to unpleasant things. I mean. Hopefully they're vague. I was going for vague, anyway.

     The middle of the night was never a good time to be awake. Of course, Tanaraeli was usually awake then regardless. Some nights she spent in the tavern, drinking and making sure no one else drank themselves to death. Some nights she stayed up in the main hall, going over Josephine's paperwork to check everything for accuracy, even though she hadn't once found a mistake. Occasionally, she'd find herself on the balcony outside Leliana's aviary, stabbing at a training dummy that Isidora had dragged up there a few months prior. More often, she was here, at the highest point of the battlements, staring out over them at nothing in particular. Waiting, if she were to be honest.

     It was never good to wish misfortune on someone who didn't deserve it, she had told herself many times, but surely wishing for the camaraderie that came with a shared kind of hell wasn't the same thing. Surely it couldn't be. Because, if it were the same thing, that would make her all kinds of monstrous. Cursed and evil. Terrible, because here she was in the middle of the night unable to sleep for fear of nightmares, and she was hoping with all her strength that soon someone else would be here too.

     Alone was a hell of a feeling.

     Most nights, he was here before she was. Whether that was because his quarters were so much closer, or because she walked slower, or any other reason, she couldn't say. She sighed, and seeing the cloud her breath formed, drew in more air to make another. _Like a dragon._

     It didn't come out as brightly as the other one, much to her disappointment. Tanaraeli frowned. What was the point of dragons if they weren't untouchable? At least in the stories, anyway. Real dragons could die. Anything could die.

     "Having fun?" A familiar voice broke the near silence. She turned to confirm the identity of the speaker, though she was sure she already knew.

     "Well, I am now," she said, smiling wide and showing her teeth. Cullen snorted. She rolled her eyes, and pulled a slightly crumpled pack of cards from a pocket of her coat, holding them up with a questioning look on her face.

     "Why not." She slid down the wall when he spoke, sitting cross legged and laying out the cards in front of her. He sat as well.

     Some nights, they conversed as they played. Tonight was not one of those nights. They were silent, and if either of them noticed the other's shivers, and saw when they had nothing to do with the cold, they made no move to indicate that they knew.

     They both knew. And they both knew that they both knew. Usually, it wasn't something either of them wanted to talk about. Usually, it was better just to play card games, or sit together in silence, or chatter on about the less important details of their days. So they did.

     Eventually, they got tired of the game, and neither of them had a suggestion for another one. Cullen moved to sit next to the Inquisitor rather than in front of her, and she slid the cards back into the torn sleeve that she had carried them in. His head ended up on her shoulder. It was normal enough. And when neither of them could fight sleep any longer, no matter how they hated it, they both rose and said goodnight, and headed off to their respective rooms.

     When she reached her room and lay down on her bed, before her thoughts faded into sleep, Tanaraeli wondered what her Commander dreamed of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The mighty powers of friendship! Also known as, I know you're not here for my Inquisitor but dammit I am going to try to make you love her anyway.


End file.
